Forbidden
by Barvaza
Summary: Warlord Prince Jhaecyn is the son of Witch and Daemon Sadi. There are certain expectations that an Ebon-gray male is pressured to fulfill, and Jhaec is happy to do so until fate steps in and royaly screws up his life. Rating is subject to change.
1. Prolouge

**Disclaimer:**

The Dark Jewels Trilogy and all the characters in the books are copywrited to Anne Bishop. Sadly, I could not come up with this one my own.  The new characters and the plot of this fanfic are mine, however.

**Author's Note:**

This is my first fan fiction ever, so criticism and complements are welcome. Please review! As I have already stated at this is my first fan fic, it would also be safe to say that this is my first DJT story, so if I make any mistakes in the technical stuff, please tell me so I can fix it!

The story is set about thirty years after Witch purged the realms of the taint. There are two main charries: Jhaecyn, the son of Jeanelle and Deamon, and Analia, a young landen woman who's people are facing major problems. It is a story of a love that cannot be, and I have yet to decide whether to make the ending happy or sad. I'm leaning towards happy, but you never know! Please remember to review, 'cause if I get good, helpful comments, the story will most likely turn out a whole lot better!

Hope you enjoy the story!

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**Prologue **

Mahai jerked her head from the ground in alarm. Her large, black tipped gray ears pricked forward and her huge brown eyes scanned the darkness. Suspicion filled her as she heard the sound again; the shuffle of feet and the occasional grunt drifted from the surrounding trees. The mare cautiously sent out a light psychic tendril, and recoiled quickly when she felt the presence of Blood humans filled with a strange emotion she could not name. Why didn't they make themselves known? Surely they could feel the presence of the other kindred scattered throughout the clearing? It was then that she remembered the last time the Blood had come in secret. It was then that she remembered the slaughter and the sadness.

Fear filled her, and she froze, not sure what course of action to take. All around her, she could see the sleeping bodies of her herd, could hear their soft breathing whisper in the calm forest. The humans most likely wouldn't go after her herd, unless of course they got in the way of their plan. She had to make a decision, and fast. If she didn't do something, try to stop the bad people, the village could be hurt. But if she did indeed help the kind ones, her family could be killed.

Mahai quickly woke the herd with a psychic thread that even the dead would hear. Quickly, she rattled off instructions to the Warlords and Warlord Princes, telling them to protect the foals and guard the mares; to defend, but not to attack. Her males hurried to do her bidding, gathering the mares and young in the middle of the clearing and forming a protective circle around them, some still groggy from sleep. Mahai alone stood apart.

_If you leave, no harm will come to you. This is our territory, and you are_…she paused then, unsure of the human word…_trespassing_…yes, that was it

The humans abruptly stopped their forward progression. While they were debating amongst themselves, she touched their minds, dismayed to find they had a gray jewel among their ranks. Her own was sapphire, and it was the darkest in the herd. But she had made her choice.

_Protect, and you will have served me well._ Mahai gave her last instructions to her defenders.

When she felt the first thrust of power from the humans, she set up a shield around her herd. Whirling away from those she loved, she sprinted towards the village, her hooves beating a staccato rhythm on the hard forest floor, her muscles protesting the sudden movement. If she got there in time, she could warn them. She had to keep them safe. She had failed once, but she would not do so again. She, at least, had not forgotten her duty. No one else would die. No one else…. She had barely reached the end of the clearing when she felt the gray unleash. Mahai screamed in pain as her inner web shattered barrier by barrier, her shrill whinny carrying far and wide. But soon…soon her soul returned to the darkness, and the pain that seemed to last forever was gone.


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

_She was surrounded by darkness. She did not know what she ran towards, but she knew it was something, something important. Suddenly, she felt the ground drop from beneath her, and the sense of falling made her want to scream. She stopped with a jerk, and began to move forward once more, blindly searching in the night for something, anything to grasp on to. A light flickered in the corner of her eye, and she turned towards it, surprised and delighted to find Natha, calling her. She jogged towards him, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Ana! Ana!" he called, over and over, and she kept running, but not matter how fast or how long she ran, she never got any closer. His calls began to come faster and faster, and soon they blurred into something inhuman and high pitched, something that sent a shiver down her spine._

Analia slowly opened her eyes, and for a moment she thought herself still in the throes of a dream. The shriek, unearthly and strange, continued to resound inside her head, and only when it stopped did she realize that someone really had screamed, and she hadn't just been dreaming. Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she threw off the covers of her small bed and almost ran into her little brother. "What are you doing in here? No, never mind. Who screamed?" Nathan simply stared at her and shrugged, his brown eyes wide with fear. He must have woken at the sound and come running to her, scared to be in the dark, alone with some unknown monster. Ana smiled softly as she pulled the young boy onto her bed and covered him up with the blankets she had previously thrown off. "Stay here. I'll be right back, okay?" Nathan simply nodded in reply, and after smiling once more for the child's benefit, Ana jogged from the room.

When she entered the kitchen, she was not surprised to find her father and siblings already there. "Do you know what that was?" asked Elise, Ana's younger sister. Ana was only a year her senior, and they might as well have been twins. Shaking her head, she turned to the young man leaning against the wall, one hand in the process of raking through his sandy-brown hair, and asked him the same question. Marcus gave a curt negative reply at her enquiry, and it was clear that her father didn't know who had made the bizarre noise.

"Where's Nathan?" Marcus looked around quickly, his gaze brushing every corner and nook in the kitchen.

"In my room. He got scared and I told him to stay there." Ana turned to question her father, not sure what to do. Outside, she could hear others in her village milling about, could hear the confusion in their voices. It seemed that the Sarasi family had not been the only ones to have heard the strange scream.

"Elise, go stay with Nathan." The teenage girl quickly opened her mouth to complain, but was silenced by a glare from her father. "Ana, Marcus, you come with me." With that, their stoic father turned on his heal and strode quickly from the room, the sound of his left leg dragging slightly the only thing that marred his impression of power and strength. Shrugging, Ana followed and could hear her big brother right behind her. It was then that she realized who, or in this case what, had screamed.

"Holy shi…shoot," she corrected herself at her father's warning glare "it was one of the horses! Are any of them due to drop their foal yet?" It was still early spring, and most of the mares would give birth in a few months. If one had gone into labor early, there was a very small chance that the foal and the mother would both survive.

It took her two male companions a moment to process her revelation, and when that moment was up, they both took off without warning towards the village stables. Rolling her eyes in annoyance, Ana followed at a jog, managing to catch up with them before they reached the large wooden doors. Inside, they found a few others who had come to the same conclusion as they had, but the horses themselves were fine. Some were a bit restless and were showing signs of stress, but that could easily be explained by the overly loud human conversations that ensued when nerves made people giddy.

Ana walked around slowly, patting a few curious muzzles and talking in a low voice with her neighbors. When everything was deemed in good order, people starting filing out of the now crowded stable, most yawning in fatigue. Ana stayed behind, still unsettled by the shrill whinny. If it had only been her who had heard it, she would have put it off as a bad dream, but the whole village couldn't have just imagined it. Secure in the peace and quiet that can only be found in a stable, with only the soft sounds of breathing and the shuffling of hay, Ana almost jumped out of her skin when she felt a hand rest on her shoulder. Turning around in alarm, she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw her brother's worried face staring back at her.

"I'm going back to the house. You coming?"

"I'll follow you in a few minutes. You go ahead."

Nodding his understanding, Marcus strode out of the gently lit barn and into the darkness. If Ana had been paying attention, she would have heard the soft grunt that followed his exit, would have heard the thud of something hitting the ground. But she didn't, and began to walk once more along the aisle-way, trying to reassure herself that nothing was wrong. When she heard a presence creep up behind her, she frowned slightly and turned quickly to berate her brother.

"I said I'd be home in a few minutes! I don't need watch…" she let the end of the word trail off, fear paralyzing her tongue. Before her stood a somewhat handsome man in his middle ages, his mouth curved upward in a sadistic arrogant smile. He was standing close, much to close. The light glinting off something on his chest made her look down, and it was then she knew the keen edge of panic. A Red Jewel hung on a silver chain and was resting over his heart. The man was one of the Blood. He could kill her with barely a thought, could rape her without even touching her. Shuddering, she tried to force a smile on her cold lips, and found it impossible. She tried to tell herself that maybe he was just here to check up on the village; to make sure everything was alright, but somehow she couldn't make herself believe it.

"Wha…what can I do for you?" she stammered out, her dark eyes darting left and right, looking for an escape rout. The man's smile widened, and his perfectly even white teeth scared the shit out of her.

"Look what I've found, gentlemen. Someone willing to _help_ us." The statement was followed by a few cruel chuckles, and it was then that Ana noticed the other five men that had silently skulked in the large stable. "Its too bad I don't want to sully my line with Half-Blood children." Faster than Ana could blink an eye, she found a knife at her throat and the man's face inches from hers. His breath smelt of liquor. "Show us your grain storage, and where your livestock are kept, and maybe I won't let my boys take their pleasure."

Ana finally realized what this was, why the Blood were here. It had been years since the last raid - she was only five when it had happened - but she remembered the deaths and the missing animals and the shortage of food that winter.

When the savior of the Blood, Witch, Ana thought she was called, unleashed her dark power, it destroyed more than those who were tainted. It ravished the land and destroyed cities, laying waste to many established Blood communities. Thirty years later, some areas were still suffering the consequences. So the Blood who had lost everything spied what they wanted in the landen villages, which had escaped somewhat unscathed, and simply took without asking, often times wounding and even killing landens in the process. Her people weren't Blood after all, not of significance and barely worth a second glance.

Rage filled her. How dare these ignorant bastards steal the foodstuff and livestock that her village had worked so hard to procure! She would be damned if she let them sack her village.

"Go to Hell." She replied to the drunken man, not realizing her error. To the Blood, Hell was a tangible thing, a realm where the dead walked. To Ana, however, it was just a curse, and not a very potent one at that. This was why she was slightly confused when the men around her started laughing.

"I suppose I will someday, but for now there are much more…pleasurable…things I could be doing." With that, he took the knife from her neck, where it had made a small incision and had caused a little rivulet of blood to run down her chest and stain her shirt, repositioned it in his hand, and slammed the handle into the top of her head. Slowly, Ana's world dissolved into darkness.

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**Author's Note:**

Thanks soooooooooooo much for the reviews! They were very helpful and encouraging and just all around wonderful. –huggles reviewers- Foxfire, if you'd like to be my beta reader, I would worship you three times a day. If you don't want to, that's fine, as well. Just let me know. Anyway, thanks again to all the reviewers and to everyone who didn't review, please do!


	3. Chapter Two

Jhaec fell into his bed fully clothed, not even bothering to remove his boots. His whole body was screaming for sleep, and he was more than happy to oblige it. He should have listened to his grandfather and abstained from going with his overly energetic cousin to wave womp with the pony-sized dragons on the Fyreborn Islands. Actually, he shouldn't have even needed to be warned, for he had done it before with the same disastrous results. Daemonar had wings, and therefore didn't actually have to spend the whole time swimming. While Jhaec was very fit, most likely because he had the arrogant Eyrien for a cousin, trying to keep his head above water and aspiring to catch his winged friend for about five hours straight was enough to tire out even the most muscular man. Jhaec had finally become so weary that he had to use craft to elevate himself above the water, and even the Ebon-gray could only last so long in a body not strong enough to contain it. After spending about an hour sitting on the sandy shore, trying not to faint from fatigue, Jhaecyn had caught the Red wind and headed home, not willing to risk the Ebon-gray, which would require way too much concentration than what he was capable of at the time. For all he knew, Daemonar was still competing with the dragons to see who could make the biggest splash.

Sleep claimed him almost instantly, and soon his chest rose and fell in the slow, even rhythm that can only be accomplished by one who is in the deepest slumber. Unfortunately, this just wasn't Jhaec's day, or more accurately, night. Just as the sun was sending its first rays of light into the horizon to turn the clouds a brilliant deep purple, a loud, insistent knock sounded at the door of the young man's room. Jhaec bolted awake, managing to hit his head on the headboard of the bed. Cursing inventively, he put an Ebon-gray physical and sound shield around his room and promptly went back to sleep. About five minutes later, he was awoken once more when his door was forced open and slammed against the adjacent wall. The resulting noise was loud enough to wake him and every other person in the Hall. Hot temper filled him, and Jhaec quickly rolled out of bed and opened his mouth to tell his father exactly which corner in Hell he belong in when the silent rage in Daemon's golden eyes tore the words from his lips.

"The next time someone knocks on your door, you better damn well answer it. Someone could have died because you were too lazy to get your ass out of bed." The words were delivered in a soft, monotone voice that scared the shit out of Jhaecyn, but the light frost that began to cover the windows was courtesy of the younger man. A normal, sane person would have pissed his pants at Daemon Sadi's cold, cruel stare, but Jhaec had inherited the temper that made his father so volatile, and he gotten past the pissing in his pants stage by the time he had reached ten years of age. Instead of letting the conversation degenerate into a fight that would most likely end with Jhaec being either maimed or killed, the young man simply chose to ignore his father's comment.

"What happened?" Only an idiot would assume that the look of utter rage on the Sadist's face was a normal expression. Yes, his father was scary on a regular basis, but Jhaec had never seen his beautiful face so contorted with anger.

"A landen village just outside Amdahr was attacked by a group of disgruntled Blood about four hours ago. We need to bring healers and supplies and do what we can to help." Daemon was the Warlord Prince of the Dhemlan Territory, and therefore the responsibility fell on him to ensure the safety of the territory's residents, including the landens. It went unspoken that a watch would be set up around the village to make sure this didn't happen again. All of this was told to Jhaec as father and son walked down the passageway towards the entrance of the Hall. They were quickly joined by Saeton, Jhaec's grandfather, who was visiting from the Keep. The two Black Jeweled Warlord Princes moved off and conversed in soft, tense voices, and it was clear that Saeton was unhappy about something. If the High Lord was younger and…well, not dead, they could have passed for twins but for a few minor differences. The group was soon joined by three healers, Marian, and Daemonar, who seemed to be having trouble staying awake. Lucivar was currently dealing with a land dispute in Ebon Askavi, where he was the ruling Warlord Prince. Marian had been at the Hall for the simple reason that she had no one to cook for at her eyre and Mrs. Beale was slightly short staffed. While the sweet-tempered Eyrien woman wouldn't be able to help much with the casualties, she would could comfort those who grieved and could aid in rebuilding homes.

Someone was missing, but Jhaec couldn't name who so he put it out of his mind. Jhaec felt himself descend to the cold, sweet Ebon-gray. The Darkness consumed his whole being until the world seemed to become shrouded in a violent, red haze. When Saeton rested his hand on Jhaec's shoulder, a snarl escaped his lips unbidden, and he suddenly felt an animalistic urge to rip his grandfather's heart out and tear it to pieces. In a small corner of his mind, he knew that his feelings made absolutely no sense and were a bit hypocritical as he was part of the Blood himself, but for the moment he felt an intense hatred of every man and woman alike who was endowed with the power of Craft. They should be killed, every last one of them. But just because his grandfather was a Guardian and no longer walked among the living did not mean that his power had lost its potency, and when he slammed a tendril of his Black power against Jhaec's inner barriers, lets just say the Ebon-gray Warlord Prince wasn't so angry anymore.

_Save it, puppy. We'll have enough trouble without having to add babysitting you to the list._

Jhaec hated to be called 'puppy,' and the High Lord knew it. Saeton gave his grandson a meaningful look before turning away to talk with his other grandson, who seemed to be having trouble staying awake. Jhaec closed his eyes, trying to regain at least a smidge of composure. When he felt sufficiently calm, which basically meant that he wasn't going to attack everyone in the Hall, he let his eyes slowly open, and found his father staring intently at his face. Just before he turned away, a muscle twitched along his father's jaw line, the only sign of emotion that the Sadist showed. While Jhaec no longer felt the urge to kill, the burning temper that was his inheritance filled him, and an angry fire filled his entire body with its malice. That arrogant son-of-a-bitch wouldn't even spend five minutes talking to him, but he would…

_Leave it, damn you! We'll deal with it later!_

Jhaec turned his cold regard on his grandfather, who's eyes were shrouded by half-closed lids a seemed to contain an eerie, sleepy quality.

"Can I assume that we're ready to go?" Jhaec angrily clenched and unclenched his hands, trying to work out some of the anger. When his palms started to bleed, he figured that probably wasn't the best idea and settled for glowering. A few minutes later, Daemon gave the signal that it was time to leave, but Jhaec couldn't help but feel that something, rather someone, was absent that shouldn't be. He gazed around him, checking off people in his mind. When he got around to naming the healers present, he finally realized what was wrong.

"Daemon, where's Jeanelle?" Jhaec had stopped calling Jeanelle 'Mother' about a year ago, when she had stopped acting like one. In contrast, he had always referred to his father as Daemon, for even when he was a little child, both father and son were unsure of their place with each other.

Daemon simply looked at him for a moment, hearing and accepting Jhaec's choice of words, and something flickering in his golden eyes caused a rivulet of worry to put the already furious man on alert.

"Its her moontime." That was all the answer Daemon gave, and it was more than enough of an explanation. Jhaec's mother was in her late fifties, and while that was considered a very youthful age for Hayllians, Dhemlans, and Eyriens, for Jeanelle, who was not from one of the long-lived races, it was the time when she began to move with less ease and her wrinkles began to become more pronounced. Her moon times were also very irregular, which managed to set the Hall on edge whenever she chose to reside there.

"Did you even tell her what happened?" Jhaec raised his eyebrows, pretty sure he knew what the answer would be.

"No. I didn't want to wake her." Again, the answer was short, the words full of an emotion Jhaec didn't want to name. Daemon swallowed hard, and for a rare moment, Jhaec saw a flicker of the man behind his father's cold and distant façade.

"Its time to go," With that, his father strode out of the hall into the breezy night air, and the large group that had gathered followed him.

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When they dropped from the winds outside the village, it was late morning.

"Welcome to Cavalo." Saeton's voice was laced with a sarcasm that confused his grandson. Cavalo…where had he heard that word before? It wasn't Hayllian, Dhemlan, or Eyrien…It wasn't Del A Mon or Glacien… It took him a moment to name the language, and when he had that, the word came easily.

"Kind Ones?" He raised one eyebrow quizzically, surprised that a landen village would be named in Old Tongue. His mother had taught the ancient language to him when he was just a small child, but even now he still had only a small grasp of the complicated and powerful tongue.

"There's a herd of kindred horses that's been living about a quarter of a mile away from the landens for a couple thousand years. They named the village. What I don't understand is why they didn't feel the bloody need to warn them!" Saeton growled, his brow furrowed, thoughts running through his mind that Jhaec couldn't even begin to guess. "They promised me they would protect them…" The last phrase was said under the High Lord's breath, and Jhaec had to strain to hear it.

"What?"

"Later. We're needed."

Almost immediately, the smell of fire reached the Jhaecyn's nose, and he had to exert a lot of self control in order to remain remotely civilized. His father and grandfather didn't seem to be faring any better, which gave Jhaec a certain perverse pleasure in knowing. Daemonar while extremely angry, was a Warlord, and therefore did not have the savage instincts that were second nature to his grandfather, uncle, and cousin. Lucky him.

"May the Darkness be merciful on those who did this." Marian muttered as they strode towards the village, her gaze flickering worriedly from Saeton, to Daemon, and finally, to Jhaec.

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**Author's Note:**

Okay, the last chapter kind of sucked. No, it really sucked. I am most likely going to rewrite it at some point. Please forgive me! Anyway, just to clarify, the landens do know of the kindred herd's existance, and they should have thought of it, which is something I intend to re-write. And I'm assuming that kindred horses wouldn't spook as easily as normal ones, but then again, I'm not Anne Bishop and I don't really know. Thanks Callie for pointing this out! Also, I am now allowing anonymous reviews. I honestly didn't even realized I had blocked them! Anyway, since more people can now review, please do!


	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter 3**

Her eyes snapped open, and the sudden light that flooded into them made her head pound. Blinking, she took a deep breath and tensed her muscles to sit up, but she had barely lifted her shoulders an inch from the mattress when nausea consumed her. She quickly let her head drop softly onto the pillow, waiting for what seemed like hours for the sick felling in her stomach to recede. When she no longer tasted bile in the back of her mouth, Ana grimaced and sat up, the nausea immediately coming back full force. This time, there was no restraining it. She threw back the covers, one hand clamped to her mouth. Moving intensified the pain in the back of her head, but she ignored it, her sole focus on the bathroom door. She barely made it in time.

When she had finished heaving up last night's dinner, she sat with her back against the door, her head in her hands. Was she sick? Her hand traveled to her hair, and she felt dried blood. She felt her stomach turn unpleasantly, but managed to keep the nausea from overtaking her again. After taking a few deep breathes, Ana thought back, trying to remember how she had ended up as she was. When her memory finally let her see the events of the night before, she felt the keen edge of panic rip through her. Her father, Elise, her brothers…Oh God, what if Nathan was hurt? She jerkily got to her feet and pulled open the bathroom door, running as fast as she dared out of the room. As she was passing her bed, her foot caught in the sheets she had so recklessly thrown off, and she went sprawling on her floor. Her head hit the hard wood with a loud _thunk_, and for a moment she was blinded by the pain. She pushed herself off from the floor with cautious care, stopping every few seconds so that the constant waves of nausea could pass. When she finally made it to her feet, she gave up on running and walked charily out of her room.

She stopped before the door to the room that Nathan shared with Marcus, afraid to look inside. They wouldn't hurt a child, would they? Her hand moved towards the doorknob seemingly of its own volition, and when she saw what was inside the room, Ana forgot to breathe. Nathan lay face up in his bed, his chest rising and falling in the slow, gentle rhythm that signals sleep. She leaned against the doorframe, trying to stop tears of relief from running down her cheeks. Naively, she was sure that if Nathan was untouched, then the others would be okay. How could they not be? Saying this over and over to herself, she shuffled painfully back to her room, sitting on her bed for a while with her back against the headboard. She could hear movement and muffled voices coming from the kitchen, but she was too exhausted to try and identify them. Ana gradually stood up, her steps small and stiff as she made her way towards the bathroom once more.

She leaned against the cool countertop and gazed at herself in the small mirror above the sink. Her long black hair was tangled and knotted with blood, and it was pulled back in an impromptu knot at the nape of her neck. She hadn't tied it back, so someone else must have done it. Her face was mostly untouched except for a few scratches on her right cheek, but her normally tanned skin showed a paleness that indicated herunhealthy state. Her eyes, normally large and golden, were a dull, tired yellow, and the lids that framed them were halfway closed. Her gaze traveled to her throat, where a rivulet of dried blood trailed down below the neckline of the tattered camisole she had worn to sleep in the night before. The shirt was stained with a few haphazard splotches of red, and she would probably have to burn it. Oddly enough, she couldn't find the cut.

The rest of her body looked and felt unscathed. She needed to take a shower, but when she pulled back the curtain and stared at the tub for a while, she changed her mind. It would take to long, she told herself, and standing up for the thirty minutes it would take to get herself sufficiently blood free would be pure torture. Instead, she moved back to the sink and turned the hot water knob to its fullest extent. She quickly put her head underneath the stream of water, not wanting to waste too much. It probably wasn't her smartest idea. Blood rushed to her head, and she could taste an acute bitterness in the back of her throat. Swallowing hard, she chose to ignore it and used her hands to scrub the dirt and dried blood from her hair. She prodded and probed, but no matter how thoroughly she searched, she couldn't find the wound. Confused, she ran her hands through her hair once more, aware of a tenderness at the back of her head but she unable to find the cut she knew should be there. It was the same with her neck. She couldn't have been asleep long enough for her wounds to heal, so someone must have done something to speed the repair.

There were kindred horses that resided close to her village, that much she knew. They couldn't…_heal_…could they? After all, they were, well, horses…Shaking her head, which again caused her brain to pound, she pushed it to the back of her mind. She certainly wasn't going to complain about a lack of abrasions.

Ana walked slowly out of the bathroom and began to rummage through the small chest of drawers opposite her bed. She was looking for something large, fluffy, and comfortable. She searched quickly, resembling a hawk looking for the tastiest mouse. Almost immediately, she spotted her prey and her hand snaked out and snatched it. After painstakingly removing her camisole, she threw on the huge sweater that had once been her brother's over her head. For a moment, she just stood their, wallowing in the instant comfort and warmth that surrounded her. Candy…cake…a good book…not even chocolate could equal the pleasure she got from extremely cozy clothes. It was something that her brothers and father could never understand. Actually, neither could Elise. She usually favored tighter, lower cut, and much more provocative clothes, but then again, Elise really wanted to get married.

After she got a bit drunk on comfiness, Ana lazily pulled on a clean pair of soft work pants. She probably looked like a homeless waif, but she didn't care. She slowly made her way out of her room, but instead of going straight to the kitchen, where she could hear the conversation that had now had the tone of anger intermixed in it, she once more peeked in on Nathan, just to reassure herself that he was okay. Actually, she was stalling. She really didn't want to deal with her father or Marcus. Marcus would be worried and would make her sit and eat until she felt like throwing up and then he would stuff her in a chair and give her a book to read and tell her she couldn't get up until she'd finished it. Its what he always did when she or Elise had been hurt or sick. Her father would be curt to the point of rudeness, asking only the most essential questions before scurrying outside to chop wood or feed the animals. He didn't do too well with displaying emotion.

When Ana finally appeared in the kitchen doorway, the conversation screeched to a halt. Confused and annoyed, she looked around her, her eyes settling on the strange man sitting at the table, his elbows propped up on the worn wood with his long fingers steepled. To say he looked scary would be an understatement. She could deal with scary…but what sent a cold chill down her spine was the Black jewel that rested on the man's finger. When the man felt her gaze on him, he gave what me must have thought was a reassuring smile. To Ana, it looked like he was trying not to snarl. She quickly moved towards the large presence of her brother, oddly sure of his ability to protect her even though the Black jeweled man sitting at their table could kill him and her without even raising a finger. Marcus, who was leaning against the counter, glanced at her, opened his mouth to say something, decided against it, and put his arm around her shoulders in an effort to comfort her. It worked, at least slightly. He had a huge gash on the left side of his face that looked partially healed, and he looked just as bad as Ana felt. Elise also sat at the table, about as far away from the unnamed man as she could get. She was looking at him with a mixture of fear and barely concealed interest. Ana couldn't blame her; the man was…beautiful. That was the only way to describe him. But at the moment, the only emotion a Blood male could install in her was panic.

Her father was nowhere in sight, but he was most likely out back giving the chickens their morning meal. For some reason, she couldn't hear their loud clucking and constant chittering, but they really weren't one of her top priorities.

"Please sit down, Analia." The man had gotten up from the table and was offering her his chair. How did he know her name, and who in Hell did he think he was, asking her to sit in her own home! She had had enough with the Blood for one day, and she was sincerely hoping the man would get his ass out of her kitchen.

"I'm fine where I am, thank you." She paused slightly, trying to calm the quaver in her voice. She wasn't completely successful. "Is there….Is there something we can help you with, because if there's not, then…"

"Ana!" Marcus said vehemently under his breath, his arm tightening around her in warning. She opened her mouth to say something smart and most likely rude, when the fear in his hard, yellow eyes made her words shrivel up into nothing before they left her mouth. It was only his stoic presence that was keeping her from bolting out the back door and hiding behind the rose bushes, and she wanted to smack him for being afraid.

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* * *

**

Daemon glared at the young woman, anger already starting to cloud his vision. If he had been alone, he would let his anger flow into something like the big kitchen table he had been sitting at, which probably would have destroyed it, but since that wasn't an option, he settled on biting the inside of his cheek until it bled. It was bad enough when one of the females in his family was hurt, but at least he knew that most of them had the power and the knowledge to resist attack long enough for a male to come to their aid. But this was not so with the landen women. They had nothing but their fists, and he couldn't name one female who knew how to use them correctly. And this was not including the fact that the girl had been assaulted by one of the Blood. And why was she dressed as if she was some starved orphan who was looking for a place to stay overnight?

Making his voice as calm and soft as he could, he gestured towards the chair once more and said, "I'm not going to hurt you. Please, it would make things a lot easier if you would sit down."

The woman just kept staring at him, fear and indignation swirling in her golden gaze. Snarling, Daemon strode over to the girl and picked her up. He could feel her body tense against him, and after she had gotten over the initial shock, she immediately began to fight him, muttering curses and using her hands to scratch and pummel his chest. Her brother reached inside one of the drawers under the counter and pulled out a long carving knife, but Daemon knew he wouldn't use it. Probably. The boy was a male, after all, and would understand Daemon's need to see the woman sitting down and not looking like she was about to faint from pain and fatigue.

He unceremoniously dumped her into the chair he had previously been occupying, and quickly used craft to create psychic bonds that prevented her from moving. Too late, he realized his mistake. When she found that she couldn't move her arms and legs, the terror that filled her eyes and face was unmistakable. Mother Night, this was worse then dealing with Jeanelle when she didn't want to rest during her moontime! Well, maybe not worse than, but close to it.

"I'll release the bonds if you promise to stay there, understand?" Actually, he would probably let her go anyway, because if he didn't she might pass out from fear. She nodded slightly, her hands clenching the wood of the armrests hard enough to leave marks. He quickly vanquished the bonds, and he could see her visibly relax. Confucian, anger, and apprehension all vied for the dominant emotion on her face, and she finally settled on confused, apprehensive anger, if there even was such an emotion.

"Now that I'm sitting," she paused and took a breath, "what is it you want?" Her voice shook with barely suppressed fright. Marcus moved to stand behind her, his strong hands resting comfortingly on her shoulders, but it couldn't have been much help because he was visibly shaking. Elise stayed where she was, her eyes wide with terror. Damn, he hadn't meant to scare them.

"According to your neighbors, you were the only one left in the stable when the raiders showed up. Apparently, that was their first stop. Do you remember any of them? What they looked like? What Jewels they wore?" Daemon asked. As the words left his mouth, he could see her remembering, and could almost smell the fear the memories brought.

"There were six, I think. The leader…his breath stunk. I think he'd been drinking. He had a Red Jewel on chain around his neck..." Her head was tilted to one side, and her nose was scrunched up in thought. For all that she looked like she'd been through Hell and back, she was cute, he'd give her that. Now that she realized he was trying to help, she relaxed minutely. He waited for her to say more, but after two minutes of silence, he figured that wasn't going to happen.

"Is there nothing else you recall? What about the other men? Do you know what Jewels they wore?"

"No. I'm sorry, but that's all I can remember." She paused slightly, a light coming into her eyes. Daemon leaned forward, hoping to hear something that would identify them. "Wait…the man with the Red Jewel…he had really white teeth." Satisfied, she sat back and looked at him, and smiled, clearly pleased with herself.

Shit. She had just described about fifteen different men that he could think of, and there were probably many other Red Jeweled males that he didn't even know about. With a low growl, he began to pace, trying to figure out the best way to go about what he had in mind. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Analia lean towards Marcus and ask him something.

"Daemon Sadi. He's the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan. He's here to help, I think." Marcus had yet to properly mastered the art of whispering. She must have asked him who he was. Had he forgotten to introduce himself? He must have. For some reason, this pricked his already honed temper. Coming to a stop in the middle of the room, he turned on his heal and stalked back over to the table, not halting until he stood inches from the young man.

"Sit down." Marcus looked up in surprise, and the cold glare in Daemon's eyes must have stilled any arguments because he quickly took the seat next to Analia.

"I want to try something, if you'll let me." Daemon said, taking the chair on the other side of the young woman. "I can use craft to take the image of the men from your mind. I don't think it will hurt." He knew Jeanelle had done it before, but he wasn't sure that he knew enough of the intricacies of craft to try it. Ah well, there was no time like the present to try. Of course, he would be learning on landen woman that could be accidentally killed by even the slightest mistake, but he really didn't have a choice.

**

* * *

**

_I don't think it will hurt_. Gods, and he expected her to be reassured by, 'I don't think it will hurt?' Was the man insane? He must be, because only an insane person would propose invading the mind of a woman who had recently been knocked out by a member of the Blood. She had just opened her mouth the object when Marcus beat her to it.

"I don't think she can handle it right now. She's had a pretty rough night, so why don't you wait a few days and then come back?" Marcus spoke, his eyes taking on that she's-my-little-sister-so-leave-her-alone look. Unfortunately, Ana _hated_ that look. It implied that she was a weak little child who couldn't stand up to the big bad bully so she needed her big strong brother to protect her.

"Actually, I'm perfectly all right. If you think it will help, then feel free to try." Ana smiled sweetly at her brother, who looked like he wanted to strangle her.

**

* * *

**

Apparently it wasn't just Blood females who were stubborn bitches when it came to fussing. Daemon almost felt sorry for Marcus before he realized that she had consented to open up her mind to him. "If you feel any pain, just yell and I'll stop." He said before he sent out the first Black tendril of power. She almost jumped out of her seat when she felt the push against her mind, but she didn't look hurt. Good. This was good. He might actually be able to do this. He gently brushed her core, and the only thing that showed she had felt it was the tightening of the fists she had curled her hands into. He pushed a little more, and suddenly he was inside her mind and her body. He had had this kind of connection with others before, but with Analia, it was different. He had access to her every thought, feeling, and memory, whereas she had access to none of his.

It was then that he heard her scream. He quickly pulled away and tried to focus, shaken by the sense of utter power he had felt during the connection. Analia was clutching her head, and tears of pain ran down her cheeks. Marcus and Elise jumped up and ran to her, trying to understand what was wrong. Slowly, the young woman lowered her hands and wiped away the tears, struggling to look as if nothing was the matter. "I'm fine, Marcus, really. It just stung a little, that's all." Analia looked from Marcus to Elise and back again, trying to smile reassuringly.

She was lying. People didn't scream when something _stung_. Cursing himself, Daemon leaned forward in his chair, taking her chin in his hand. She tensed automatically, now more frightened of him than she had been when he'd thrown her in her chair. He forced her head up so their eyes met, and the fear in her gaze sent sharp jab of pain into his heart.

"Are you all right?" He asked, gently sending a psychic tendril to probe her body for any injuries. Finding none, he reassured himself that she was physically okay. Mentally, however…that was a different story. "I'm sorry. I didn't know it would cause that much pain." He racked his mind, searching for the answer. He needed to know who attacked the village, but he couldn't think of a way to gain the information. Jaenelle could do it without even causing the slightest discomfort, but she was at the Hall. A lump formed at the back of his throat at the thought, but he quickly swallowed and it mostly went away. But maybe…maybe there was one other who had the knowledge of craft it would require…

_Are you busy?_

_Yes._ The answer came with an annoyed mental jab.

_Tough. I need you. Now. _Daemon could almost sense the sigh that accompanied his words.

_Fine. Where are you?_ Yep, his son was defiantly irritated. Too fucking bad.

_Remember the girl who was found in the stable? I'm in her house._

_I'll be there in five minutes. _Jhaec broke the Ebon-gray spear thread that connected them, but Daemon quickly reestablished it. After tersely reprimanding him for severing the connection, Daemon told him what would be required of him. After Jhaec let out a stream of explicative potent enough to make even Lucivar blush, he told Daemon he might be able to do it. If the conditions were right.

* * *

The man's eyes took on a slightly glazed look for a moment, and Ana took the time to push her chair away from the table and get up to get a glass of water. Anything to show her brother that she was okay. She was scared he would try to do something rash, because he didn't seem to understand the power that the Blood could wield. He was a young man, almost in the beginning of his prime, and that made him stupid sometimes. To distract herself and him, she asked, "Marcus, where's Father?" She expected him to say outside taking care of the sheep, or something, but he simply stared at her for a moment before looking away. She looked over at Elise, and on close inspection she realized the younger woman's eyes were red and puffy as if she'd been crying. Worry clamped on her heart, and she quickly grabbed Marcus' arm and dug her nails into, trying to get his attention. "What's going on, Marcus?" Her voice was soft and low, and she could feel him shiver slightly at the sound. 

"He…he tried to stop them from taking the horses, Ana, and…" he paused, swallowing hard, "…and one of them used their magic to throw him against the barn." Marcus stopped then, unable to go on. He shook her hand from his arm and walked quickly out of the room, not wanting her, Elise, and especially the Warlord Prince sitting at their table to see him cry.

Ana simply stood still for a moment, stunned. This couldn't have happened! Nathan was all right…Their father couldn't have been killed! Nathan…oh shit, Nathan! He didn't have any parents now! He was an orphan! _She_ was an orphan.

The thought made her feel nauseous all over again, and it was all she could do to not throw up into the sink. Prince Sadi must have noticed something had changed in her demeanor, because he suddenly appeared at her side and guided her back to her chair.

"What is it? Is it your head? Shit!" He snarled, before turning to Elise, "Do you have anything cold?" When she shook her head in confusion, he once more focused his attention on Ana, who was trying to get a word in edgewise.

"No, my head's fine. I'm fine." Unfortunately, the silent tears that began flood her eyes showed her words to be false. She could hear the man cursing under his breath, but she wasn't really paying attention. All she could think about was the fact that her father would never frown at her and mumble under his breath again. Odd the things the mind remembers and cherishes. She stared at the table, her vision blurred by the salty wetness that refused to stop falling from her eyes. She heard the Warlord Prince approach Elise and question her, and could hear his intake of breath at her answer. But when he placed a hand on her shoulder and murmured his condolences, she shrugged it off and turned to glare at him. Through her sadness she could feel an anger more potent than she had ever known rise within her. How dare that hypocrite try to comfort her when it was one of his own that had caused the pain? The two-faced bastard!

"Are we finished?" She asked, her voice coming out more shaky than she liked, but still firm all the same.

"No, Lady, we're not." Lady. What the Hell did Lady mean? "My…Prince Jhaecyn will be here shortly and he is much more versed in the details of craft than I am. He'll be able to get the information we need without hurting you." Oh. So this was still about the damn description. Ana glared at him, trying to will her anger to make the sadness go away. It didn't work, but then again, she didn't expect it too. Prince Sadi sat with his arms crossed over his chest and his heavy-lidded gaze glaring right back into hers. They were still sitting like that when someone entered through the back door without knocking.

Ana turned, her glare fully in place, to berate whoever it was for not having the common courtesy to announce himself, when the angry fire in the man's eyes made her want to squirm. He crossed the room to stand next to Prince Sadi's chair, and they commensed to have a conversation that no one else in the room could hear. _Well isn't someone rude_, Ana thought to herself, taking the time to study the new intruder. He was as tall as the other one, and it didn't take a genious to tell that the two were related. This one was younger; his shoulders were slightly less broad and his body seemed a bit more agile, but besides for that they could have been brothers. Except for three things. The younger man wasn't as beautiful as Prince Sadi, but besides for him, he was one of the most handsome men she had ever seen. Another difference was his eyes. While the Prince's were golden, this man's were a deep sapphire, and almost looked out of place with his dark skin and wavy black hair. Finally, instead of a Black Jewel, this man's was slightly lighter, a sort of sooty gray. She had absolutely no clue what it was called.

"Do I pass inspection?" Ana almost jumped out of her skin at the man's voice. Looking up into his face, she wanted to smack him for the arrogantly amused expression that she found there. How long had he been standing their watching her study him? Choosing to ignore his egotistical smile, she nodded slightly and then glared up at him.

"Are you Prince Jhaecyn?" When he nodded, his startled expression giving away his surprise at her knowledge of his name, she continued, "Good. Then can you please do whatever it is your supposed to do because my family and I have much we need to get done today." She surprised herself at her own audacity, and the knowledge that she could sass a member of the Blood and get away with made her want to smile.

* * *

Jhaec wanted to throttle her and hold her in his lap and comfort her at the same time. Everytime he had seen a landen woman or child his feelings had been much the same, but this time they seemed to amplify themselves until he had to dig his fingernails into his palms to keep himselffrom doing something stupid. For looking at her, he could tell she'd been crying, and the stiff way she moved set his nerves on edge. While he understood his father's need to know the face of the leader of the raid, and while he very much wanted the debt to be called in, he was having a hard time understanding why it had to be done _today_. But Daemon had made it clear that he wanted the information _now_, and even Jhaec was not dumb enough to argue with him when he began to talk with his sleepy, cajoling voice. 

It was somewhat ironic that Jhaec, who was only twenty-eight, could take what was needed while his father, who was over 1700 years old, could not. But that's what happens when you're the son of Witch. Besides for Jeanelle, Jhaec knew more about craft than anyone in the realms, even more than his grandfather, the High Lord of Hell and the Prince of the Hourglass. It made him one of the most dangerous Blood males to walk the realms…not because of power, though the Ebon-gray was nothing to be ashamed of, but because of knowledge.

Instead of taking a chair, he knelt down in front of the one that held the woman and rested his hands on the armrests of the seat. "All right, Analia. In order for this to work, you have to trust me. If you don't, you're life will be at risk, understand?" He waited until she nodded before opening his mouth to continue.

He had barely gotten the next word out when she said, "Ana. My name's Ana." He blinked, surprised.

Nodding as if he understood the importance of the nickname, he said, "When you feel a push, don't resist it. You have to completely open your mind…Ana." Even though she smiled slightly to show her understanding, he could tell it didn't really make sense to her. For the Blood, opening one's mind to another person was the ultimate symbol of trust, so the fact that she didn't even hesitate to comply unnerved him. But she also most likely didn't actually know how to do it. She didn't have any inner barriers. All she had was her core, her self. Mother Night, this would be difficult!

After asking if she was ready and getting an affirmative nod, he let his Ebon-gray power surround her, let it slowly seep into her mind until it began to brush her core. Sat there for a long time, looking into her tired eyes and letting her get used to the contact. In the far corner of his awarness he felt his father get up and start pacing, impatient and maybe slightly jealous of his son. Putting it out of his mind, Jhaec turned his full attention to the young woman in front of him. After about ten minutes, he felt her relax slightly. "Remember to trust me," he whispered under his breath before sending a thin tendril of power to probe her self. He smiled slightly when he felt the connection. Analia...no, Ana…stiffened slightly, but she didn't seem to be in any pain. He instinctively threw open his inner barriers before he realized that she was not a Blood female and therefore that sign of respect and submission was not due. But then again, maybe it was. Deciding to leave his mind open to her and knowing she would be too shy too look anyway, he slowly sorted through her surface emotions; fear, sadness, anger, and a slight exhileration, most likely caused by the intimate link they shared. This would be the first time she would ever have felt something like this, especially since she must know that she could puruse his every thought and feeling if she dared. Of course, he had to give his permission, whereas Ana had no say what-so-ever.

He slowly descended deeper, not touching the memories he didn't need. When he finally found what he was looking for, he let out a low snarl and he could feel the air around him become much, much cooler. Ana started, slightly, and began to pull away. Shit. Breaking the connection, he sat back slightly, slowly drawing his power back to him. He focused on the girl in front of him and felt his anger rise at the paleness of her face. Her golden eyes were glazed with pain, but at least she hadn't screamed, which is what Daemon told him she had done when he'd tried it. If she hadn't gotten scared, she wouldn't have been hurt.

"Do you know who it is?" His father asked, his eyes gaining the slightly sleepy quality that alerted Jhaec to watch what he said. Nodding, he sent the image to Daemon, who immediately turned on his heal and stalked out of the room. The other girl, who had been sitting at the opposite end of the table at his arrival, and gotten up and left for some reason. This left him and Ana alone. Slightly uncomfortable, he stood up quickly and backed away so there was about four feet between them.

"Are you alright?" She nodded and rose slowly to her feet, playing with the hem of her huge, tattered sweatshirt. She frowned slightly and the angry glare she had given him at his arrival once more dominated her eyes. She had just opened her mouth to say something when the other woman reentered with a tall, burly man in tow. He looked somewhat sheepish, but it was clear that Ana was happy to see him.

"Marcus, why don't you go wake up Nathan and take him outside to help with the animals?" She asked, smiling up at him. Something was going on, but Jhaec couldn't glean it for the life of him. The man, apparently named Marcus, ran his right hand through his hair a small muscle jumped in his cheek.

"Ana, we don't have any animals left. What they didn't take they killed." Ana let out a breathless "Oh," and then bit her lip in thought.

"Well give him something to do. We'll wait until tonight to tell him about Father, okay?" Nodding, Marcus left the room through a different door, probably towards the bedrooms. Now very uncomfortable, Jhaec muttered a few condolences, said a hasty good-bye, and fled. Something about that girl had set him on the edge, and if he had heard one more word about the pain the attackers had caused her, he would have killed something.


End file.
